


Reunion

by AthiaOfTheLight



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthiaOfTheLight/pseuds/AthiaOfTheLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adaar attends some fancy-pants function to woo nobles to the Inquisition’s cause- and runs into a face from her past that she's not exactly pleased to see. Pre-'Demands of the Qun' and Pre-'Wicked Hearts' (The Iron Bull is Qunari and the Inquisition isn’t high on the nobility’s priority list). This was supposed to be a oneshot to get me back in to writing fanfic. It's not a oneshot anymore. Teen for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

     She gave her most convincing, empty smile as the noble prattled on about hunts and hounds, breathing an internal sigh of relief when he finally ran out of kills to recount. A few agonizingly kiss-ass remarks later, he went on his merry way, convinced of the Inquisition’s cause and might. Addar had to stop herself from sighing openly, then. She had made polite chatter as best she could- surely Josephine wouldn't object if she took a break? Just a quick gulp of fresh air on the quiet, secluded balcony, and she'd be refreshed and ready to re-plaster on her fake social smile and make more small talk.

_      Anyone thinks being Inquisitor is easy, I'll run them through the nobility gauntlet a few times,  _ Adaar thought as she ducked behind a potted plant and through the doorway onto the balcony, dodging a doorframe not made for Qunari or Tal-Vashoth.  _ At last, some fresh air! Please, tell me there are no illicit affairs taking place in the hydrangeas…  _ A quick listen and a glance around seemed to confirm that there were no nobles necking behind the enormous flowerpots that graced either end of the balcony.  _ Thank the Maker, a few seconds alone!  _ Adaar gulped in clean, unperfumed air as she leaned carefully on the railing (no telling if it could bear her weight- humans were oddly inconsistent in their architecture). 

     After a few minutes of peace, her conscience nagged at her; duty called. With a deep, heartfelt sigh that she could actually release out loud, Adaar turned around to go make nice with more nobles.  _ Vashedan, might as well get this over with. Maybe I'll talk to the dowager countess? Anyone with that many dead husbands  _ must _ be interesting... _ So preoccupied was she with preparing herself mentally that she completely missed the large, horned figure standing in front of the doorway. She smacked right into him.

     “Shit! I mean- sorry, you alright? I didn't see you.” She peered up at the figure, and her look of concern transitioned into one of shock. A canny observer might have noticed that under the shock, Adaar was less than pleased. 

     “ _ Iskrar _ ? Is that you? What are you doing here?” As she spoke, Adaar backed up a few paces- she didn’t like him being in her space- and looked the other Tal-Vashoth in the eyes.  _ Maker’s breath- it’s him! Out of all the kith that could be here- if Andraste’s watching, she’s laughing at me. Loudly. _ Outwardly, she tried to show none of the emotions churning through her. 

     The Tal-Vashoth chuckled, sending a wave of irritation through Adaar. He was wearing his mercenary’s kit- but the badge of the Valo-Kas wasn’t on it any more. Instead, the badge of a freelancer was stitched in its place.  _ Shokrakar finally kicked him out. It’s about damn time.  _ On the other side of his overcoat, he wore the temporary badge of one of the lordlings at the gathering.  _ A hired guard by minor nobility too poor to have a full-time guard. Oh, how you have fallen, Iskrar- and I’m not sorry to see it. _

     “If it isn’t my old Captain Adaar. Not just any old merc anymore, huh? And here I thought all those tales of a Vashoth Inquisitor were just the products of a drunk human’s imagination. Good for you, leading all those humans to stupid to wipe themselves without help.” Iskrar’s voice held a nasty undercurrent and his eyes were contemptuous. Adaar’s eyes narrowed.  _ Don’t let him get to you. His resentment is not your concern. _ Her voice was coolly polite when she spoke.

     “It’s  _ Inquisitor _ Adaar, now. As you pointed out, I am no longer a mercenary captain. I apologize, but my duties require me elsewhere. Excuse me.”  _ Out of my way, dathrasi.  _ She brushed past him, holding onto formality like one of those enormous shields Cassandra carried. The return to the ballroom and inanely chattering human blue-bloods was almost a relief. Josephine looked relieved to see her, and immediately brought over more lords and ladies to charm. Adaar turned her attention to her duties and let the irritation that was Iskar fall from her mind, making a small note to write Shokrakar later to ask what straw had broken the dathrasi’s back. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This bit's kinda long b/c I couldn't figure out where to break it.

     A short while later, when shockingly interesting conversation with a group of retired generals was winding down, Adaar’s parched throat began to complain. She extracted herself somewhat regretfully and headed over to the 20-foot-long refreshments table, where Sera and the Iron Bull had made their presence known.  Servants were working quickly to repair the enormous hole in the pastries arrangement. No thirst-quenching tavern ales here- there were delicate wines and warmed brandies of the highest quality, designed to let the attendees know  _ exactly _ how wealthy their hosts were.  _ Things were easier as a merc captain. For one, no fancy parties unless you were paid for it. _ Sometimes Adaar really regretted taking the Conclave job.  _ Every company has one or two jobs that they seriously regret. This has  _ got  _ to be the only one that’s made the captain a holy figure. Fucking humans. _

     Adaar carefully picked up a flute of sparkling alcohol and hoped it was weak- she had a rule about drinking on the job, but her voice was going to give out if she didn’t wet her throat. The brandies were out of the question. She stepped off to the side of the table that didn’t a huge, ugly, and fashionable statue and leaned against the wall. She had just taken her first sip when a voice beside her nearly made her drop the glass. For someone as large as he was, the Iron Bull moved  _ quietly _ . 

     “Hey, boss, you want to tell me why you brought me and Sera along?” She glanced over and up, and he quirked an eyebrow at her. “We just seem like odd choices to charm the monied and powerful.” Adaar grinned. 

     “Why, Sera can get more information out of the servants than anyone else other than Leliana, and Sera won’t terrify them.  _ You _ are a trained observer.” She returned her attention to the ballroom in front of them took a sip of wine. “You also happen to be excellent eye candy.” He chuckled, and it filled her with warmth. “Both of us,”he inquired mildly, “or am I just the lucky one?” 

     “Oh,  _ absolutely _ both of you, although Sera’s eye candy in more of an abstract way. You’re much more… defined.” She kept her eyes forward and took a sip of wine, not daring to look at him.  _ Maker’s balls, am I flirting? With a  _ Qunari? _ Shrokakar would die laughing from the first, and kill me for the second.  _ She focused internally on not blushing -the last thing she needed was for a busybody to see the cheeks and the wineglass and come to the conclusion she was a drunk. The Inquisition was still on shaky ground with the nobility- her reputation had to be flawless. 

     “Defined? Is that so?” His voice was low and rumbling. “Well, if it’s  _ defined  _ you want-”

     They were interrupted by an shout of recognition as another Tal-Vashoth appeared from behind the massive decorative…  _ thing _ on the opposite end of the refreshments table and waved at Adaar before heading towards them. Adaar blinked and forgot all about busybodies- and busy bodies. “Andraste’s flowing undergarments, it’s a fucking reunion.”

     “What?” Iron Bull asked as he and Adaar watched the second Tal-Vashoth of the night (two more than usual) waded through the crowd. It distinctly reminded her of watching eddies  swirl away from a stick dragged through water. “Were there more of them?”

     “Huh? Oh- just one. And he and I… weren’t on good terms. This one, though-” she nodded towards the Vashoth heading towards them- “he’s a good one. Or was. Hello, Maraas.” She traded her wineglass to her left hand and clasped forearms with the new arrival. He, too, wore the long-term badge of a freelancer and the same lordling temporary badge. She gestured at his overcoat.

     “You, too? What happened?”

     Maraas grimaced. “It’s a long story. Iskrar fucked up again, and Shokrakar kicked him out and I… well, someone’s got to look out for him. He won’t do it himself.” His eyes were soft, and Adaar could see worry lines where none had been before. She looked at him sympathetically but shook her horns. “You’re too good for him, Maraas. You always were.” Maraas started to speak, but she cut him off. “Just let me say this once. Unless he’s changed significantly in the past few months, he’s going to get himself killed eventually. Please, don’t let him kill you as well.” She held his eyes for a few seconds, until he looked away. 

     “You always did try to mother us, Captain.” 

     “Like you said- you won’t do it yourselves. And at least I had a mother to pattern myself after, unlike half of you.” From a human, those would be fighting words, but it was old banter in the Valo-Kas. 

     Iron Bull shifted at her side, and she suddenly remembered where they were.  _ Stop reminiscing, Adaar. Not the time or the place for regrets. It’s too late- you made your decision weeks ago. _

     Adaar shook her head to clear the nostalgia. Maybe she should've just asked a servant to bring her water. “Enough gloom talk! What are you and Iskrar doing here? Surely, simple bodyguards or retainers wouldn’t have so much time to chat with their old captain.” She remembered Bull again. “Forgive my manners. This is the Iron Bull. He leads-”

     “The Bull’s Chargers! I’ve heard of you.” Maraas held his arm out, and he and Bull clasped forearms. “Your company does good work, from what I hear.”

     Adaar grinned. She could never resist. “It does- almost as good as the Valo-Kas”. Bull elbowed her side as he always did when comparisons came up. 

     “Don’t let Krem hear you say that, he’ll be heartbroken. He’s convinced we’ll convert you to a Charger yet.”

     Maraas shook his horns and folded his arms. “Captain Adaar, in a merc company not the Valo-Kas? I would never believe it,” he declared. “You’d have to carry her corpse out-” he cut himself off mid-sentence and looked at Adaar apologetically. She forced a laugh, ignoring the sting the words inflicted. “I almost did die, Maraas. Corypheus certainly tried.” She wrenched the subject back to the original question. “So, how  _ did _ you and Iskrar end up here?”

     “Oh, right! Well, we did some good work for a noble, and he said he’d bring us to this, so that we could talk to nobles and maybe scrounge up some work. It’s a lot harder when you’re not in a company. I’m not sure about it- we’ve got a couple leads, but we’re not nobility. We don’t belong here. If the nobleman wasn’t so prickly, I would have dragged Iskrar out of here an hour ago.” Maraas frowned, and his fingers twitched against his forearm. “I didn’t want to come at all, really, but Iskrar made me.” He looked around as Adaar took advantage of the monologue to down the rest of her wine. The twitch of Maraas’s fingers bothered her, but she wasn’t sure why. Maraas cursed. “Maker’s breath, where has Iskrar wandered off to now? I keep losing him! I love him, but he’s going to insult some noble’s drinking habits and wind up in a duel!  _ And we’ll never be paid again! _ ” Muttering under his breath, Maraas moved off, seeming not to notice that the humans and elves in his path parted before him as if he had the plague. 

     “That was… interesting.” The Iron Bull sounded amused. “What’s the story behind the other one? Iskrar. Now  _ he _ sounded like a character.”

     Adaar was distinctly less entertained. She did not like the fact Iskrar was here. “He’s a hot-head,” she replied shortly, her eyes on the crowd of nobles that flitted around the ballroom. “Won’t take orders, thinks he’s better than his superiors, mouths off to the people who pay us… he’s a disaster to have in a merc band, and he should have been out on his ear years ago.”

     In her peripheral vision, she could see the Iron Bull nodding meditatively. “So why keep him?” he asked. “Why wait to kick him out.” It was a fair question. 

     “In a word? Maraas,” she answered. “He’s worth…  _ was _ worth Iskrar and then some. And we knew that if we gave Iskrar the toe of our boot, Maraas would follow him. You heard him, Iskrar needs someone to keep him alive.” She glared at the floor and shook her head. “I’m glad Iskrar’s no longer our problem. But it sets my teeth on edge that we lost Maraas as-”

     “ _ Inquisitor! _ ” Josephine’s voice cut through Adaar’s, and Adaar started guiltily. Sighing deeply (but not too loudly), she placed her empty wineglass on a passing servant’s tray and went to make nice with highborns.  _ Maker, please let these be as interesting as the generals. Also, let them be the last group I have to deal with tonight. _ It had to be getting late (or early), and it was a long ride back to Skyhold and the War Table. 

     “Have fun,” the Iron Bull told her wickedly as she left the relative safety of the wall.

     “Don’t make me take you with me,” she threatened, tossing the words over her shoulder as she walked off.

     The conversation, though not interesting, was not exactly dull, either. It centered around the difficulties of maintaining one’s military edge in times of hardship and poor harvest. While certainly not an expert in the topic, lean times in the Valo-Kas and the Inquisition’s humble beginnings gave Adaar a perspective that some of the conversing nobles found fresh. Adaar actually thought she was doing rather well, in terms of forwarding the Inquisition’s interests.  _ Nobility could use more fresh perspectives, I think. It would keep them from becoming too hide-bound.  _ One old biddy in particular was of the firm opinion that, when famine struck, all of a keep’s soldiers should be sent home. This would relieve the keep’s obligation to feed them, and save the ruling noble money and supplies. Adaar was just opening her mouth to point out that this would create roving bands of hungry, armed, and martially trained scavengers when she heard the whistle of a blade cutting through the air.

_      Thud! _ Adaar looked down at the rather shocking sight of a dagger protruding from her right side, and sighed deeply once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to think of how having horns would affect figures of speech and mannerisms. This is where the horn-shaking comes from, as opposed to head-shaking, for a form of disagreement. (This is also why Adaar shakes her head instead of her horns to clear nostalgia- your horns aren't where your brain is.)


	3. Chapter 3

_      This is just getting ridiculous _ , she thought savagely to herself as she pulled on the dagger. This was why she insisted on wearing leather armour underneath her fancy clothes. Josephine might complain and worry about insulting their hosts, but Adaar had known she wanted good, solid, druffalo hide as insurance. Nobles with sharp tongues often concealed sharp knives. 

     However, it was no noble that Adaar turned to face as she freed the dagger of the expensive silk uniform, passing it to her left hand. Rather, it was Iskrar that stood not five feet away with a dumbfounded look on his face. When he saw her, his knife in her hand, he pulled another dagger from inside his sleeve and attacked.

     She waited until he was in arm's’ reach, then grabbed his right arm with her right hand and sidestepped, hooking his foot with hers and twisting his arm to throw him to the ground. His dagger clattered to the marble floor, and before he could make a grab for it she had her knee in his back and her hand on his right horn. With her left hand, she put his dagger under his chin, making sure he could feel the edge. 

     “Stupid,” she informed him. “How many times did we go over how to spot armor under clothing in the Valo-Kas? That’s your problem, Iskrar, you never learn.” 

     “Paranoid  _ bitch! _ ” Iskrar’s fingers twitched towards the dagger that still lay on the floor, and Adaar poked his neck a little with the dagger while considering if she was fast enough to kick it out the way and get her knee back between his shoulders before he moved. Fortunately, a moment later a large shadow bent over and swept it up (she had reluctantly concluded that Iskrar wasn’t quite  _ that _ slow). The shadow handed it off to Leliana, who had appeared like a ghost off to Adaar’s front left. Leliana bent her head to study the knife, ignoring the swarms of nobles that gathered like vultures over a carcass. 

     In the back of the crowd, Adaar could hear Josephine fighting to the get to the front. Cassandra and Sera weren’t too far behind.  _ Cullen is going to be furious that he missed this _ , Adaar thought.  _ Somehow I don’t think he’ll let matchmaking mothers frighten him off from balls again.  _

     “You OK, boss?” The Iron Bull’s voice was full of anger and concern- mainly anger. He walked around to Iskrar’s front and got on one knee to look him in the face. Adaar helpfully tugged Iskrar’s head back to facilitate eye contact.  _ Terrifying him can only help loosen his tongue.  _

     “Iskrar, I assume?” Iron Bull’s voice was deadly underneath its calm. Far from being terrified, Iskrar only seemed even more incensed by the other man’s presence. He did his best to spit at Iron Bull and snarled, “Your manners don’t impress me,  _ Qunari. _ You and the Captain might have the wool pulled over Thedas’s eyes, but  _ we know! _ ”

     Adaar looked at Iron Bull and quirked an eyebrow.  _ How in the name of Andraste and the Maker does he know Iron Bull is Qunari? And ‘we know’? Know what? _

     “Qunari?” she asked sarcastically. “Have you  _ seen _ him drink, Iskrar? I might only be Vashoth, but I’m pretty sure the Qun frowns on getting piss-ass drunk most nights of the week.” The Iron Bull look hurt. “Only when there’s no jobs, Boss!” he protested.

     Iskrar shifted under her, so she poked him with the knife again. If he didn’t want to get prodded by sharp, pointy objects, he shouldn’t have moved. “Your lies only serve to cover the truth!” he spat. “You’re paving the way for a Qunari invasion into the South!  _ He said so! _ ” Adaar blinked.  _ What?  _

     Leliana spoke up from behind Iron Bull. “This knife is from Tevinter, Inquisitor. It is probably Venatori in origin.” Josephine, Cassandra, and Sera pushed their way through the crowd, erupting into the small circle that had formed around Adaar and her captive. Behind them, Adaar could see the host of the ball; he looked rather disturbed and displeased.  _ Maybe interrogating a prisoner on the ballroom floor would be impolite. We certainly wouldn’t want to offend the nobility’s delicate notions of propriety.  _

     Adaar cleared her throat, the mantle of Inquisitor settling on her shoulders. “Leliana, Cassandra, please take Iskrar outside and arrange an appropriate guard while I apologize to our hosts for this unfortunate disruption. Sera, go with them. Collect your weapons from the guards outside, and Iskrar tries to run, shoot him down.” She said this last comment right next to Iskrar’s ear.  _ Might as well appeal to whatever sense of self-preservation still lingers in there. Although come to think of it, when has he  _ ever  _ shown _ any  _ sense of self-preservation? _ Still, it was worth a shot.

     Releasing Iskrar’s horn and grabbing his shirt at the scruff, she hauled him to his feet. Leliana and Cassandra took charge of Iskrar, Leliana keeping Iskrar’s other dagger at his throat as they frog-marched him out. Adaar looked sideways at Iron Bull, wondering if she should send him with the others. He caught the look and gave her a stern glance in return. 

     “Not a chance, Boss. I’m staying  _ right here _ , next to you.” Adaar wasn’t willing to admit, even to herself, the feeling of relief that swept through her at his words.  _ Flirting is one thing. Getting attached is another. No attachments, Adaar. No getting feelings on the job. _

     She shook off the feeling and swept up to the host, bowing. “My sincerest apologies for the disturbance, my lord. Perhaps it would be best if my people and I departed the festivities.” The noble was a noted pacifist, and Adaar was pretty certain that armed combat in the ballroom was a good enough excuse to let them leave early. Sure enough, the nobleman bowed his head in acknowledgement and murmured his apologies that Iskrar had been allowed in with weapons. Obviously, he had not been searched thoroughly, and the Inquisition could rest assured there would be a reckoning for it among the guardsmen. With one last bow, Adaar turned and started for the doors that led down the stairs and to the stables. 


	4. Chapter 4

     When the footmen pushed open the doors to the outside, a feeling of immense exhaustion swept over Adaar.  _ I’m not meant for this sort of thing. All this pandering and priming, all the bowing and scraping? It’s not for a Vashoth merc captain to get herself involved in. I just want to go  _ back. _ Back to the Valo-Kas, where I know who to trust and what the fuck I’m doing. Back before thousands of people were depending on me to save them from a threat so ancient no one even remembers his Maker-forsaken name.  _ Homesickness and frustration welled up inside her like a flood as she passed immaculately manicured and tended gardens that probably cost a year’s salary to someone like her. Josephine and Iron Bull shadowed her on her left and right, but Adaar felt so, so alone. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to cry. She was  _ going _ to do neither; she was going to stand tall and straight like a good little Inquisitor, in many ways just as much a prisoner as when she’d awakened for the first time after the Conclave. Adaar gritted her teeth and tried not to stomp the last few yards to the stables.

     Leliana and Cassandra greeted her at the stable entrance; Iskrar has been stashed in a nearby storehouse for easy guarding and retrieval. The Inquisition’s favorite Jenny was nowhere in sight.

     “Where’s Sera?” Adaar inquired, intent on keeping any hint of frustration out of her voice. 

     “The kitchens, I believe,” Cassandra answered dryly. “She mentioned she was hungry right before she disappeared.” 

     Adaar folded her arms and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was rapidly developing a headache. “Please go get her, Cassandra?” She tried to remove the pleading element from her tone, with moderate success. “The sooner we’re out of here, the better.” 

     “Of course, Inquisitor,” Cassandra replied, and departed. Adaar remembered that Cassandra didn’t like parties any more than she did. It made her feel somewhat better, that someone else had been just as miserable.  _ At least I didn’t have people fawning over the fact I’m whatever-in-line for the throne of Nevarra. Thank Andraste for small favors.  _

     Adaar turned to Josephine. “Would you mind gathering up all our people and getting ready to leave? I know we weren’t planning on leaving until morning, and I don’t think leaving someone behind would win us any favors.” Josephine nodded and set off as Adaar looked at Leliana and Bull.

     “You two, with me. Let’s go see where Iskrar got that fancy dagger of his.” Andraste’s tits, she just wanted to  _ sleep _ .

     Adaar and Iron Bull followed the lithe spymistress to a storage shed tucked into the woods a little ways from the stable. The guards at the door saluted and opened the door into a damp, dimly lit room. Once more, Adaar had to duck to avoid the doorframe. 

     The interior, illuminated only by a small lamp, contained but a single chair upon which Iskrar… well, ‘reposed’ indicated some level of comfort, and Iskrar looked anything but comfortable. He was very obviously well-tied down onto the absurdly tiny chair, and his state of dishevelment indicated a disturbingly thorough body search for more concealed weaponry. Adaar glanced at Leliana, who merely shrugged. 

     Adaar softly strode across the room to Iskrar’s too-small chair. Getting down on one knee, she looked up into his face. A faint bruise on his cheekbone and a busted lip were testament to his rough treatment. Adaar looked at Leliana, hard. Leliana merely shrugged again, and said, “Some of our soldiers were less than pleased at his attempt at assassinating you. They were not shy at expressing it.” Iskrar had not spoken at all since she had entered, apparently content to just look at her accusingly. 

     Adaar stood up and looked at the prisoner.  _ Less than six month ago I would have done almost anything to rescue him from imprisonment. Not because I  _ like _ him or anything, but because he is- or was- kith, and you don’t leave kith behind.  _ Now, a former member of her kith had tried to kill her. 

     “ _ Why _ , Iskrar?” She had meant to sound tough, had meant to show that past loyalties had no impact on the current state of things. Instead, she just sounded tired and defeated. 

     “We didn’t get along, and by Andraste we sure didn’t like each other, but trying to kill me? Don’t you think that’s  _ maybe  _ a little beyond the pale?” She was getting angry, the frustration bubbling to the surface. Dammit, she had  _ tried _ !  _ Tried  _ to save him from himself,  _ tried  _ to be a good leader! Iskrar said nothing, and Adaar’s emotions took hold of her tongue. Maker  _ fucking _ dammit, she was tired of people trying to kill her. In battle, as a mercenary, it was all very detached; you and the enemy didn’t really have anything against each other. You both just wanted to survive to next payday. Between Corypheus and Iskrar and the Venatori, however, it was starting to feel  _ very _ personal.

    “I’m not even the one who kicked you out!” she snapped. “You got yourself booted  _ after _ I left!” Adaar stood up and threw her hands in the air. Iskrar still hadn’t said anything, and she doubted her ability to question him calmly anymore. She needed a good night’s rest and a strong drink, and probably wasn’t going to get either for at least a day.

    She was almost out the door when Iskrar spoke. 

    “Kicked out? Shokrakar told you she kicked me out?” He sounded… hurt. Slightly bewildered. His voice became defensive. “Maraas and I  _ left  _ the Valo-Kas.”

     Adaar froze in the doorway, shoulders hunched to avoid smacking her horns. The Iron Bull let out a slight  _ oof _ as he ran into her from behind, but Adaar barely noticed. She whirled around and dodged Iron Bull, practically sprinting back to Iskrar.

     “Did you just say you and Maraas  _ left _ ?” She threw the words as him as her mind raced. Maraas’s face as he said,  _ Iskrar fucked up again, and Shokrakar kicked him out _ . Why would he lie about that? Iskrar’s voice,  _ we know!  _ And,  _ he said so! _ Another image, this time of Maraas’s fingers twitching against his forearm when he claimed he didn’t want to come. 

     Maraas only twitched his fingers when he lied.

**Author's Note:**

> I always look for opportunities to improve my writing. Did I write something contrary to canon? Did I make spelling/grammar mistakes? Tell me! I welcome all polite and helpful suggestions.


End file.
